I used to think finding "my people" was like finding a soulmate. A lightning strike. A sweeping gesture from the universe telling me, Here they are! Your ride-or-die crew forever. Spoiler alert: It wasn’t. Life, it turns out, is less cosmic rom-com and more slow-burn literary drama. The truth is that building a community—much like creating a good relationship—requires effort, vulnerability, and knowing yourself well enough to recognize who belongs in your corner.

For most of my twenties, I floated, trying to force connections where they didn’t fit. It took years of trial and error, a little heartbreak, and a healthy dose of self-discovery to find my tribe. Now, I can confidently say I’ve got my people—and we are as imperfectly perfect as any found family can be. Let me take you back to the beginning.

Lost in Translation: Feeling Like an Outsider

Growing up in Santiago, my home was never quiet. My parents sang along to Violeta Parra records, and the dining table stretched out like the spine of a novel, hosting intricate, interconnected stories from anyone who walked through our door. I assumed that sense of belonging would translate seamlessly into my adult life. How wrong I was.

Moving to Madrid for my studies, I found myself sitting alone at cafes, watching groups of friends spill laughter like wine. I felt like the bad dubbing in a foreign film—there, but not really in sync. Homesickness hit me hard, but worse was the self-imposed pressure to pretend everything was fine. I told myself, Carmen, you're an independent, jet-setting intellectual. You don’t need people! Spoiler alert: I did.

Cue a series of missteps. Joining the wrong book clubs (who knew Ulysses superfans could be so snobby?) or trying to click with coworkers who turned sixty shades of beige when I suggested salsa dancing after work. I was desperate to fit in but hadn’t yet figured out that finding belonging is more about alignment than proximity.

The Heartbreak That Changed Everything

It wasn’t a romantic heartbreak that cracked me open—it was the end of a close friendship. She was the first person I’d bonded with in Madrid, and I’d clung to her like a life raft during my early, awkward months. It seemed perfect, but over time, I noticed something. She never laughed at my self-deprecating jokes. My love for talking about family or sipping mate on slow Sundays seemed to bore her. I often felt like I wasn’t enough—or maybe too much.

When we drifted apart, it hurt, but it was also freeing. I realized I’d dimmed parts of myself to hold on to her approval. Something clicked: I wasn’t searching for my people. I’d been chasing anyone willing to stick around. That self-awareness was my turning point.

Finding Your People: The Art of Showing Up as Yourself

Okay, let me get cheesy for a moment: your people will love the weird, complicated, ping-ponging mess that is you. But there’s a catch: they can’t see that beautiful chaos if you’re too busy hiding it. I learned this the hard way, but lucky for you, I’m here to pass on what I’ve learned (without the identity crisis).

  1. Start With "You-Be-You" Activities Forget about what’s trendy and choose experiences that honestly excite you. I found one of my closest friends in a Latin music meetup where we bonded over a shared disdain for reggaeton remixes of classics. (Sorry not sorry, Marc Anthony.) Whether it’s a board game night or a morning birdwatching group, you’ll connect with people who share your version of fun.

  2. Be Curious, Not Cool Channel your inner toddler and ask lots of questions. People love to open up when they feel genuinely listened to. I've learned more about someone by asking them, "What’s your comfort food?" than from all the polished small talk in the world. (If you’re curious, mine is an empanada dipped in pebre salsa. Messy but worth it.)

  3. Don’t Fear the Awkward Phase Making adult friends is weird. There’s no “instant soul sister” guarantee, and the beginning stages might feel stilted. It’s kind of like a first date—should you text them after brunch? Is it too pushy to say you’d love to hang out again? Lean in. Beautiful connections grow in awkward soil.

  4. Let Go of the Cling Here's the thing about community: it ebbs and flows. Yes, I have “my people,” but they weren’t all found in one magical moment. Some friendships faded gracefully; others came roaring back after years. The right people stay when you both make space for each other to grow.

My People, My Home

Today, my tribe is a patchwork quilt stitched across Santiago, Madrid, and even Buenos Aires. There’s my friend who calls to check in every Sunday, no matter how busy life gets. The poet in Mexico City who knows exactly which Neruda line to quote when I’m spiraling about love. And the couple from Argentina who insists I stay too long at their asado because, “Carmen, where else do you need to be?”

Building community isn’t about finding a cookie-cutter clique. It’s about creating a cushion of support for life’s highs and lows—a space where showing up as your unfiltered, unpolished self isn’t just tolerated but treasured.

The Takeaway

If you’re still searching for your people, know this: they’re out there, waiting for you, the real you, to show up. Stop trying to fit into someone else’s puzzle. Bring your quirks, your passions, and yes, even your messiness, to the table. The right people won’t just accept you; they’ll celebrate you.

So take the leap, ask the awkward questions, sign up for that sunset salsa class even if you have two left feet. Your tribe may not arrive with fireworks and fanfare, but when you find them, it’ll feel like coming home. And trust me, there’s no sweeter feeling.